The next day he realized that he should have added the words “Weather permitting” to his notice, for there was a south-east gale blowing and, although Toby would willingly have made the trip if necessary, he knew that no one would think of trusting themselves to the launch today. He begrudged the possible loss of income, but was well enough satisfied to stay on land. It rained at times, but never enough to flatten out the waves that piled themselves up outside the harbor. Arnold came over on foot after dinner, clothed in oilskins, and they spent the rest of the day watching Long Tim put the first coat of paint on the Aydee, now almost ready to take the water, and in putting away most of a pan of fudge which Phebe made. They also tried to add to Mr. Murphy’s education, but with no success. The parrot was in a most unreceptive mood today and only eyed them morosely from his perch. Arnold’s attempts to make him say “Toby is a chump” met with no response except sober winks.
The gale held most of Sunday, but Monday was fair again, the wind having shifted around to the west over night. Mr. Whitney went over to Johnstown at eight and returned again at two-thirty. Toby brought his first passenger from the other side on that trip, a wizened little man who explained that Art Griscom had told him about the ferry. Apparently, like the stranger at the funeral, he “only just went for the ride,” for after getting to Greenhaven he remained safely in the launch and went back in it at four, paying his seventy-five cents quite enthusiastically and promising to come again soon and bring his wife with him.
But no one else took advantage of the ferry that day, and Toby began to have doubts again. On Tuesday, however, business looked up with a vengeance, for Arnold had been talking of the ferry to his friends at the Head, and at nine o’clock the Frolic set sail with eight passengers, most of them members of the ball team. Frank Lamson was with them, and Frank, just at first, was inclined to be stand-offish with Toby. But by the time that last game had been talked over and threshed out, and George Dodson and Tracey Gay and Arnold had declared that Toby’s trick had been no more than they deserved, and others had agreed, amity was restored, and Frank thawed out. The crowd explored Johnstown and returned again at eleven-thirty and Toby pocketed the munificent sum of six dollars!
That, as it proved, was the turning point. From that time on the success of the ferry line was never in doubt. You couldn’t have called its success phenomenal, for there were plenty of days when two passengers were all that patronized the launch, and when, as infrequently happened, a storm kicked up the waters of the bay there weren’t any! But at the end of a fortnight of operation Toby discovered that he had actually averaged the four passengers a day that, when planning the project, had seemed quite fabulous. Now, though, he was far less satisfied with that scanty number and set his heart on seeing it doubled. He never did, but there was a gradual increase of patronage as the summer advanced and folks learned that they could visit the neighboring town quickly, comfortably and safely. There is no denying that many a passenger viewed Toby doubtfully on the first trip, but never afterward, for the boy, in spite of his youthfulness, could manage a motorboat as well as any man in Greenhaven. Arnold usually made the trips with his chum, but now and then, as the novelty wore off, he “turned up missing.” The Frolic was used only infrequently for the reason that Toby held himself to strict account for gasoline and oil and it was something of a bother measuring out pints and ounces to replace what had been used.
Meanwhile the ball games between Towners and Spaniards went on and the boys from the Head at last achieved a victory, defeating the team captained by Billy Conners by the, to them, satisfactory score of 12 to 4. After that, in the four contests that occurred, the two teams split even. But it was an ironical circumstance that the particular one of those later contests in which Arnold took part, playing his old position at second base, was the one in which the Spaniards were most conclusively worsted! After it was over Arnold confided to Toby that he guessed he would stick to being a ferryman!
However, he didn’t, because at about that time the Aydee was launched with much pomp and ceremony and Arnold bought himself a very nautical outfit of white duck and whistled “A Life on the Ocean Wave,” much out of tune but with a fine persistence!
The launching took place bright and early one Friday morning. Long Tim declared that “a boat launched on a Friday would never have no luck,” but Arnold was too impatient to wait another day. Phebe, standing on a board—it lacked an hour of high tide and the mud at the foot of the little railway was particularly soft and black and clinging—broke a bottle of spring water against the bow and declaimed “I christen thee Aydee!” Whereupon Mr. Tucker eased on the tackle, the knockabout slid down the ways, and, amidst the cheers of Toby and Arnold and Long Tim and Shorty, floated out on the cove. The reason that Phebe didn’t join her voice with the others in exultant acclaim was that the Aydee, on its way to the water, had impolitely pushed against her and for the ensuing minute she was very busy waving the neck of a broken bottle, adorned with a light blue hair ribbon, in an effort to maintain her balance on the plank.
The rest of that day and all of the next was devoted to stepping the mast and adjusting the rigging. And then Long Tim got busy with his paint-pots again, and so it was Monday before the proud skipper could slip his mooring and put to sea on the trial trip.